


John Doe 317

by silverruffian



Series: E/O Challenge Supernatural Drabbles [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, John Doe 317
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverruffian/pseuds/silverruffian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the E/O CHALLENGE (FFnet). Drabble word: steady. Happy birthday, Woodburner! Hurt!Dean, protective Sam. You can't go wrong with Dean in a straightjacket in a mental institution. Story told in 7 drabbles. This was the inspiration for my Dean Winchester/Gabriel Bender fic, Good Country People, posted over on FFnet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Doe 317

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural this is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit.

Chapter 1

He was a kid again, cradled in loving arms.

Daddy, please…

The straightjacket strapped tight around him felt good somehow. He rocked in the corner of his cell, slow and steady, against the white padded walls.

They told him he was bad. Told him he was sick. His head was filled with bad words like bitch and jerk and Dean and Sammy. 

Maybe he could knock those words loose if he tried hard enough, and the men in white would leave him alone.

No more needles. No more electric shock.

He was a good boy now.

Yeah. A good boy.

 

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Chapter 2

The new kid was freakishly tall, shaggy. It was that hard glint in his eyes that Bronson liked the most. Made him look older than he really was. That hard look, the light stubble on his jawline, the easy way he moved made Bronson think he was a likely prospect.

"You ever work in a mental hospital before, kid?"

The kid shrugged. "Name's Smith. Steady job. I learn fast. I'll do whatever it takes to keep it."

"Whatever, Smith?" Bronson smiled broadly.

"Whatever," Smith said flatly.

"Fair enough. Got an opening, starting right now. Lemme give you the grand tour."

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3

They never listened to him.

"…nuh…no…no…"

They never did.

"I'll be a good boy…good boy…no…"

No matter what he said, they enjoyed dragging him down the hallway.

So sometimes he said bad things, despite the drugs.

"I'll kill all of you when I get loose, you hear me, you sonsofbitches…"

Because he knew they'd hurt him anyway, even if he tried to act good. Knew they'd strap him down on that table, gag him, and shoot the lightning into his head, bright, white and steady.

His head buzzed with it, and the only thing he could think of was Sammy.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4

"Saved the best for last," Bronson said, smiling. He walked into the cell, knelt down and checked the vitals of the unconscious man in the straightjacket. Pulse and respiration was slow and steady.

Smith walked up behind Bronson.

"Our prize freak. Real tough guy. Sheriff brought him in a week ago. Broke Thompson's nose the very first day. But we made your mind right, didn't we, punk? Good boy."

Smith growled, low and deep in his throat.

It was the last thing Bronson heard for quite a while.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam whispered. "It's okay. I'm here. I got you."

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 5

Bobby's place. The panic room.

"…no…no…" Dean choked out. "…good boy…I'm a good boy…"

Sam held on. He held Dean in his arms, rock solid, steady, held him like he knew John Winchester must have done when Dean was four.

Sam talked about how it was when he and Dean were kids, about the Spaghettios, lousy Christmases, skeevy motel rooms, talked about how Dean was always there for him.

"My turn now, bro'. It's all right, Dean. I'm here."

Over and over again, into Dean's right ear, until he quieted down.

He was a kid again, cradled in loving arms.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 6

The news broke the day after, a steady stream of hidden camera footage and inside information about Northfield Mental Institution.

"Damn, " Bobby whistled to himself. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, kid." He and Sam stood and watched news footage of several staff members being led away in handcuffs.

Including Bronson, the one who hired Sam.

"Good boy," the bastard snarked, as he showed Dean off like a prize pet.

"Surprised you didn't kill him," Bobby said.

I should have, Sam thought to himself. He picked up Dean's lunch tray and left without saying a word.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7

"Damn, dude," Dean grumbled darkly as he looked at himself in the mirror. "I like my hair short but this is fucking ridiculous."

Sam huffed. It was a good sign. If Dean felt well enough to bitch, he was getting better.

They'd cut his hair even shorter; the better to attach the electrodes, my dear. He'd lost twenty five pounds in that damn place. His wrists and ankles were bruised from the restraints. He was eating more, didn't wake up screaming as much.

Baby steps.

Sam would take every last one he could.

Slow and steady wins the race.

-30-


End file.
